A Gentleman's Landslide

I
smell
the clouds
sweating into the
potholes while blisters
snap out of the tin-cans, tickling
my calmness. I now seem to fear the cannonading bubbles
assailing the slopes and scaring away the blankets of dust which are,
oh my!, running down the hill in squirting piles of mud, floating away with my petunias!

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